The Vigil
by International08
Summary: Their footsteps echo in the nearly empty hallways as they make their way to the room that is at once so familiar and yet still feels so strange. Follows "Sweetheart," "The Message," and "The Call." Complete.
1. Chapter 1

_This directly follows "The Call." So if you haven't read that (and "Sweetheart" and "The Message" before that), read it first. _

_Also, when you get a chance, please go check out Extraordinary Lines, a fanfic archive dedicated to Castle - extraordinarylines dot com._

* * *

Her hands shake as she digs through the pockets of yesterday's slacks, searching for her keys. Where are they? Where are they?

"Kate."

Lifting her gaze from the garment on the chair, she meets her stepdaughter's eyes, finds the young woman standing half-shadowed in the dim light of the master bedroom, her arms full of sleepy boy.

"I can't find my keys," the detective says softly, wishing she couldn't hear the desperation in her own voice, that peculiar blend of life-giving hope and insurmountable dread.

"There's a taxi waiting for us downstairs," Alexis tells her, understanding in her eyes.

Kate notices then the diaper bag slung over the young woman's shoulder, the jacket - Kate's jacket - tucked under one arm.

"Thank you," the older woman whispers, straightening and stepping forward.

She wraps both arms around her children, presses her nose to the soft red hair, her lips finding a home against the young woman's temple. "Thank you, Alexis."

A shuddered puff of air washes across her neck, contrasting with the steadiness of Nate's breathing as he hovers just on the edge of sleep. Alexis bumps her cheek to the detective's chin. "Let's go."

* * *

The cab ride to the hospital is silent but for the occasional lip-smacking from the dark-haired boy whose head is tucked under Kate's chin.

She glances over at Alexis, finding the girl looking solemnly out the window at the neon lights of the city that never sleeps. She says nothing, looks away, but leaves her free hand resting on the worn fabric of the space between them.

She's not surprised when warm fingers curl into hers a few seconds later.

* * *

Their footsteps echo in the nearly empty hallways as they make their way to the room that is at once so familiar and yet still feels so strange. How many hours, how many days have she and Alexis spent here?

But lately...

Work and their son, running a household, looking out for his mother - all of those things have run her ragged.

She hasn't-

She hasn't spent much time here lately.

Alexis has. She knows that.

She knows the girl comes almost every day. Alexis is the one who comes and talks to him, reads to him. She studies here sometimes. Kate walked in one day to find the young woman reading aloud from her molecular biology textbook.

Her stepdaughter flushed bright red, stammered out an explanation of how hearing the material helped her retain it, how it was something she thought her dad would find interesting, how it was something he could probably use in a book.

Kate just nodded.

Alexis is the one who has kept the faith.

* * *

Their vigil was constant at first.

Gates had given her time off work, had told her to take all the time she needed. And so she'd stayed, almost all the time in those first few weeks, and Alexis with her, the girl thankfully between semesters at Columbia.

Most comas don't last longer than four weeks, the doctors had told them.

But four weeks had come and gone with no change.

His eyes would flicker open when the doctors would give him injections, when the orderlies would jar his body when they moved him to prevent bedsores. Her heart would leap each time.

But aside from an incomprehensible grunt, the twitch of his fingers or his leg - nothing.

And so every day, she gave up a little more.

* * *

They slow their pace as they approach the door, and Kate reaches out, closes her fingers around the redhead's wrist. The young woman turns toward her, eyebrow lifting. "Alexis-"

The girl shakes her head. "I know. It's- he may not-"

They've both done their research. They know the odds.

They know that the comas of daytime television dramas are not reality, that many people never emerge from that twilight state, that those who do may die shortly thereafter or face problems for the rest of their lives.

They know.

But knowing doesn't keep hope from rising in her chest.

She hefts Nathaniel higher, pulling him tight to her body, his soft hair tickling her neck. The boy doesn't even stir. Turning her hand to give her stepdaughter's fingers a quick squeeze, the detective attempts a smile.

She pushes the door open, her gaze immediately searching for his, her heart aching for the sound of his voice, the bright white of his smile, the blue twinkle she's missed so much.

His eyes are closed.


	2. Chapter 2

Her breaths come rapidly, syncopated staccatos of air that breeze across the top of Nathaniel's dark head.

She...she knew.

She knew not to get her hopes up, knew the chances were slim. So many, so many slip back under. But this is Castle, her miracle man. And she'd believed, but-

"Daddy?"

Her stepdaughter's clear trembling voice cuts through her frantic thoughts, the hopeful little girl winning out over the more cautious young woman.

She feels Alexis' grip on her hand slacken, her fingers slipping away as she steps through the doorway into the half-lit room.

"Alexis," she murmurs, but the girl doesn't turn back, her gaze and her path focused on the still form of her father a few feet away.

"Daddy?" Alexis repeats as she approaches his bed. Her small hand slides under the large one resting on Castle's chest. He doesn't move, doesn't wake, doesn't respond.

The young woman watches him for a moment, crystal blue eyes fixed on the familiar face, his features slack in repose. What the detective wouldn't give to see a smile curl those lips, to see the lift of a roguish eyebrow, to see the formation of crow's feet at the edges of his eyes as he beams proudly at his daughter.

She gets nothing but a redhead turning back to look at her, heartbreak etched in every line of her slender body, grief misting suddenly dark eyes.

"Kate."

The detective jolts forward, traverses the space between them in less than the span of a heartbeat, her free arm enfolding thin shoulders as she cradles the girl against her chest. "Oh honey. Oh, sweetheart."

There are no tears, just a quiet despair, and for a moment Kate hates her husband for disappointing his daughter, for making all of them go through this. She hates his courageous, reckless heart for forcing her to do this on her own, hates his stubborn selflessness that has left their son without a father.

And for what?

Nathaniel snuffles into her chest, his tiny fist unfurling as he stirs against her, his fingers clenching and straightening and clenching again, this time around a shock of red hair.

Kate adjusts her hold on the boy, smooths a hand over the back of his head to calm him - the way she used to do with Castle when he woke from a nightmare - and just like that the anger drains out of her, deserts her, leaving only that gnawing grief, the ever-present need.

"Oh, you're here."

Looking up from her son, she seeks out the source of the new voice, finds Dr. Bodie standing in the doorway, his face weary and his white coat wrinkled. Kate nods.

"I'm sorry," he says, stepping into the room, extending his hand in greeting but withdrawing it when he sees that both her arms are occupied. "I had an emergency down the hall."

The detective nods, but doesn't speak. Seemingly unbothered by her silence, the doctor steps briskly past the trio.

Her stepdaughter's head lifts from its place on her chest and the two of them watch in communal quiet as Dr. Bodie checks Castle's vitals, noting each measurement on a pad of paper. Kate wonders idly whether she'd be able to read the man's handwriting or if her husband's statistics would remain as much a mystery to her as everything else that has happened in the past year.

"Why isn't he awake?" Alexis asks, her voice soft, hesitant. "Wasn't he awake a little bit ago?"

Dr. Bodie looks up from whatever he's writing, his eyes compassionate.

"He was," he says with a slight nod.

"But he's not now," the girl says, a hint of accusation in her tone. "Why?"

If he shrugs, if he says he doesn't know, Kate vows she'll strangle the man. They've had too many unknowns, too few answers, too much hope and not enough of the tangible, the concrete, the certain.

"Many coma patients slip in and out of consciousness," the doctor says. "This isn't the first time Mr. Castle has awoken."

A frisson of shock races through her veins, her breath leaving her as she finally finds her voice. "What?"

"It's not the first time Mr. Castle has been conscious," he repeats. "He's had a number of instances of varying degrees of alertness over the past few days."

"Why now?" Alexis asks before Kate has the chance. "Why did you just call us tonight?"

"Because," the doctor says, "this is the first time he's spoken."


	3. Chapter 3

"Did she make it?"

"What?" the detective asks, shifting Nathaniel in her arms as she steps closer to the doctor and her husband's bedside.

"That's what Mr. Castle asked when he spoke," Dr. Bodie clarifies. "He asked, 'Did she make it?'"

Kate turns her attention toward Alexis, wondering if the girl has any idea what her father might have meant. The young woman stares back, eyebrows furrowed.

Looking back at the doctor, Kate opens her mouth to ask another question. But Alexis speaks first. "Oh. Oh god."

Her eyes dart frantically to her stepdaughter, find the girl with a pale hand pressed over her mouth as she stares at the bed and her father. Kate's heart ricochets in her chest as she whips her head around to seek out Castle's form, but he hasn't moved, his body still, his breathing even.

She turns back to Alexis, whose eyes are shiny, her face blanched. She reaches, sets a careful hand on the girl's arm. "What is it?"

"Oh god, Kate."

Alexis is genuinely scaring her now, and she instinctively tightens her arm around her son, the little boy snuffling sleepily against her collarbone for a moment before he settles, his body warm and heavy against her chest.

"What, Alexis?" she asks, her fingers clenching around her stepdaughter's wrist.

"He-" the young woman begins, her voice muffled by the hand still covering her mouth.

Kate shoots a glance toward the doctor, who has moved closer to the bed and seems to be watching his patient, though she's certain that he's also listening to their conversation.

Alexis pulls her hand away from her mouth, shakes her head. "The woman. With the little girl. The one Dad tried to save."

Her heart stutters in her chest, a wave of grief and irrational anger overcoming her for a moment. She sees the emotions reflected in the younger woman's eyes, sees the way the girl is trying, trying so hard, has been trying so hard all this time.

And why? For what purpose?

By the time she'd left the prison that day, it was all over. All that remained after she listened to her stepdaughter's frantic message was to call the girl back and then to drive to the hospital as quickly as she could, to hold and be held while they waited, hoped, prayed.

The boys had sat with her, had bracketed their little family - Ryan on one end with his arm firmly around Kate's shoulders while Esposito had held Martha's hand at the other end of the row. Alexis sat in the middle, surrounded.

Kate remembers the moment Captain Gates stepped through the waiting room doors, her posture more slumped, her face softer than the detective had ever seen it.

"Beckett," the woman had called, and she'd shot up out of her seat immediately, hurrying toward the captain she had slowly grown to respect.

She felt the presence of her stepdaughter at her side, turned to find all of them there - her family.

Turning back to Gates, she nodded. "Sir?"

"I spoke with the lead detective on the hostage case," she said quietly. "He told me what happened."

"And?" Esposito asked, his hand rising to clench around Kate's shoulder, as if to hold her down, to keep her present.

"It's a long story, and they're still trying to piece together some of the details, still trying to figure out how everything took place, but a few witnesses told him about Castle and what he did."

She remembers having this need, this overwhelming need to know exactly why her husband is under a surgeon's knife, fighting for his life.

"Apparently, the man in charge of the whole thing threatened a woman with a little girl," the captain continued. "He was going to shoot her. Mr. Castle tried to intervene."

None of them missed her word choice.

"Tried?" Ryan asked.

The captain nodded. "He was too late.

She felt Alexis' forehead meet her shoulder blade, heard the beginnings of a sob. It wasn't- it wasn't as if knowing that he had saved someone's life would have made it any better if they'd lost him. But-

"Mrs. Castle?"

Dr. Bodie's voice pulls her from her memories, and she looks up, meets his warm, weary brown eyes.

"I'm sorry," he says kindly. "I don't know when he'll wake up again. All we can do now is wait."

She nods, tugs on her stepdaughter's wrist. The young woman steps closer, steps into the detective's side. Kate hasn't completely gotten used to this, to this version of Alexis who seeks her comfort, her touch.

But she's so very grateful she hasn't had to do this alone.

"You have an exam tomorrow, don't you?" she asks softly.

The redhead nods. "But if I email my professor and explain, I'm sure that..."

Kate shakes her head. "No. You should...you should go home, get some sleep, take your exam. I'll call if anything changes."

"What about Nate?"

Her eyes drop to the sleeping boy, and she tilts her head to brush her lips over his crown of dark hair. "I'll call Lanie, see if she can take him for the rest of the night. Or my dad."

Alexis tightens her arms around Kate, and the detective turns their bodies toward the door, steels herself for a long night of watching her husband, his silence so unnatural a thing for her talkative man.

Kate squeezes her stepdaughter's hand one more time, and the girl opens the door, glances back for a moment. "Let me know if-"

They turn in unison at the sound of a familiar voice, rough with disuse. "Did she make it?"

* * *

_A/N: Please check out extraordinarylines dot com, a new fanfic archive dedicated completely to Castle._


	4. Chapter 4

_To the anon who left a question in a review on the last chapter - part of your message got cut out. I assume it was about extraordinarylines dot com, and possibly about the Castlefans fanfic site, but I'm not sure. Message me here or on Tumblr and I'll gladly answer your question in more depth. But if you were asking what I think you were asking, the two sites use the same software: an archiving software called EFiction; the difference and a big part of the reason EL got started was to have a place that allows *all* ratings._

* * *

Her heart leaps into her throat, her body somehow reacting more quickly than her mind. She jostles Nathaniel in her haste, feels the boy struggling in her arms, hears the distant tenor of his unhappy cry. But all of it fades, her vision narrowing to the man in the hospital bed, his eyes blinking rapidly, his fingers clenching and unclenching in the thin sheets bunched around his hips.

"Castle?" "Daddy?"

Wife and daughter call out to him in unison, Kate on his left side, her fingers automatically rising to brush the hair from his forehead while Alexis hovers at his right hip, her hand covering his, stilling his his movements with her grasp.

He doesn't answer.

His eyelids flutter shut after a moment, stay that way. The detective glances at the familiar machines that measure all of his vitals. His heartrate is definitely higher than it was a few minutes ago.

Running her fingers over his forehead, through the short hair at his temple, she lets her nails rasp lightly over his scalp. "Rick, please."

She can hear the desperation in her voice, doesn't care - doesn't care if it makes her feel weak, doesn't care what Alexis thinks of her, doesn't care what the doctor says. He's in there. He's in there, and that means he can come back to her, back to his daughter, back to his son.

"Daddy, please."

Her stepdaughter's soft voice echoes the plea, and Kate looks up to find the girl with both hands wrapped around her father's forearm, her shiny blue eyes focused on his face. "Daddy, please."

A throat clears, and the detective reluctantly pulls her eyes from her husband, diverting her attention to the doctor who stands at the foot of the bed.

"These brief episodes of awareness are what we've experienced with Mr. Castle over the past few days," he says quietly. "It's common for coma patients to fade in and out."

Kate feels her heart slowing, the adrenaline spike of hearing her husband's voice beginning to recede. She nods.

"But it's a good sign?" Alexis asks. "It means he's getting better?"

Dr. Bodie nods. "It means that his prognosis is much more favorable than it was before. It means that he still has the ability to communicate."

Something like a punch in the gut hits her, leaves the detective feeling winded, and she sinks into the uncomfortable chair at his bedside. She hadn't-

She had considered that he might never wake up, had come close to resigning herself to the rest of her life without him by her side.

But she hadn't considered *that* possibility: that he might awake and not be the same, not be the man of words she had always known. Worse yet, that he might have the words and not be able to use them, that she might have to watch in frustrated anguish as he struggled to do something that had once come so easily to him.

Looking back at Alexis, she finds the girl still asking questions of the doctor, who answers them as patiently and thoroughly as he can. The information doesn't process in her mind, her brain still swirling with possibilities both good and bad.

She turns to look at Castle once again, his face pale under the harsh hospital lights, though she knows he'd be pale even in natural light.

They've hired someone to come in and work his muscles, to keep him in the best shape possible. They've made sure he gets the best care, the best nutrition. But there's nothing she or Alexis could do to keep him from losing the sun-burnished glow he always had before. She misses that tan skin.

Leaning forward, she cups his cheek in her palm, runs her thumb across his perfect lips, her index finger gliding over the strong ridge of his nose.

Closer, she needs to be closer.

Needs to give him a reason to come back to her.

She bends toward him, presses her forehead to his, breathes his air.

Her weary muscles protest her posture, but she stays there, keeps her body close to his, keeps her chest pressed against his bicep, lets him feel her heartbeat

A long moment passes, silent but for the muted conversation between Alexis and the doctor.

"Please," she murmurs. "Please, Castle."

He doesn't stir, just continues to breathe, slow and steady. But as grateful she is for even that small miracle - as thankful she is that she's sitting by his hospital bed and not kneeling next to his grave - she needs more, needs him to wake up.

Needs him.

Nathaniel struggles in her hold, the son she's almost forgotten in the past few minutes. She lifts her head, glances down in time to see Nate's face scrunched up, in time to realize that the boy with his father's looks is probably hungry or wet by now.

He jerks in her arms - he has his father's strength and determination - and twists his body. She's tired, so very tired, and her reaction time is slow, and before she knows it, she's lost her grip on him and he's falling.

She moves, but not fast enough to keep him from landing hard on his father's stomach.

He wails.

Kate barely hears him.

Because Castle lets out an 'oof' at the impact and she looks up to find that his eyes are suddenly open and focused on her.

"Kate."


	5. Chapter 5

"Kate."

She snaps out of her sudden shock; he's said her name twice already.

"Castle," she whispers, leaning over him, her hand rising automatically to touch his cheek, his forehead, his lips, his ear. "Oh god, Castle."

She presses her mouth to his, swift and ruthless, no place for tenderness in her frantically thrumming heart.

He meets the kiss, strong, his mouth under hers so warm, so rich, so very good. It's new life - his kiss - and even though he's been the one asleep, she feels like she's just awakening for the first time in a year.

Distantly she hears the rising beep of his heart monitor, but she feels the pounding in his chest under her hand before the sound registers as being too fast.

Their lips part with a pop as she lifts her head, a little embarrassed, but he's smiling, he's smiling, he's smiling and she thought she'd never see those crinkles around his eyes again.

"Kate," he murmurs, his voice awed, as she lifts the fingers on his chest to card through his hair gently, the other hand firmly on Nathaniel's back as the boy wriggles against his father's stomach.

And then Alexis is there, fingers pressed over her mouth, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. His wrist flexes and his fingers catch hers, tugging his daughter toward him.

But it's- there's something that's not right. He should have an arm around her now, should have pulled her all the way into his embrace. Kate has found herself the unwitting victim of the way Richard Castle forgets his own strength - his overgrown puppy-like enthusiasm landing them in a tangled mess of limbs - on more than one happy occasion. And this is his daughter, his pride and joy.

Alexis doesn't seem to notice though, just leans forward, her movements a little jerky as she bends to press her cheek to her father's, soft words passing between them that Kate can't quite make out.

Leaning back, the detective gives them a moment, a little room. She scoops up Nathaniel once more, shushes him into silence, reaching into the diaper bag that lays forgotten at the foot of the bed until she finds a pacifier.

He settles then, dark head drooping against her chest and she listens to the rhythmic sucking noise he makes, the noise that layers over the soft whispers of father and daughter reunited.

"He's not out of the woods."

The voice to her left startles her for a moment, but it's just Dr. Bodie. She turns, finds him watching the scene before him with compassionate professionalism.

"What do you mean?" she asks, keeping her voice low. "He's awake. He knows us."

The doctor nods, brown eyes shifting to focus on her. "And that's good. But he still could-"

"He could slip back under?"

"He could," the doctor confirms. "He may not, but it's a possibility."

"And if he doesn't?" she wonders.

"If he doesn't, then he has a very long road to recovery ahead of him."

"Even though," the detective begins. "Even though we've had someone here exercising his muscles and everything?"

Dr. Bodie nods. "Even so. We don't know yet exactly how his mind and body have been affected. He may be perfectly fine, he may require extensive physical therapy, he may have memory or other problems."

Her heart sinks even as she watches her husband's fingers curl around a lock of his daughter's red hair, giving it a brief, affectionate tug.

"You just need to be prepared," the doctor says quietly. "He may not be the same person he was before."

She sighs. "None of us are."

Alexis straightens then, giving her a clear view of Castle's face - his pale, drawn, grinning face. She can't hold back her own smile, hope and joy beating back the fear churning in her stomach.

And then his gaze drops from her face, drops to the dark head lolling against her chest. His eyes widen in surprise, and then she sees it - a flash of pain, a shade of devastation darkening the blue.

"Kate," he rasps out, and she watches the way he swallows hard, the way his adam's apple bobs in his throat. "Is that..."

She takes a slow step toward him, her legs suddenly shaky. Glancing toward Alexis, she meets the young woman's red-rimmed eyes. The girl nods.

The detective is grateful for the chair next to the bed, sinks into it gracelessly. Lifting a hand to brush the dark curls away from his forehead, she shifts their son in her arms, leans forward until her husband's fingers reach out to trace the tiny nose, the marshmallow cheeks, the rosebud lips.

"How," he starts, and her heart clenches at the grief in his voice. "How long have I been in a coma?"


	6. Chapter 6

Clouded blue eyes plead with her. "How much have I missed?"

Her throat suddenly clogged, she opens her mouth, can't get the words out.

"Thirteen months, Dad," a younger voice answers.

Castle's attention shifts to his daughter, and he turns his head to look at her. His voice comes out as barely a whisper. "Thirteen months?"

Alexis nods. "Thirteen months and nine days."

The detective watches the subtle play of emotions in his eyes. He's trying. Trying to keep them from seeing how devastated he is.

He looks back at Kate though, and she can see everything. He's never been able to hide from her, not really, and this moment is no different. Grief, regret, a desperate longing - it all swims in the stormy blue of his eyes, and all she wants is to go back.

To go back to that day and tell him not to go to his meeting, to wake him up with her lips on his chest and make him late enough that he'd have taken the car service instead of the subway. To give him - to give all of them - back the thirteen months that he should have spent with them.

But there's nothing she can do.

"At least," she says, forcing strength into her voice - strength and false lightness. "At least you missed all the times I was cursing your name while I was in labor."

She hadn't thought he could get any paler than he already was. She was wrong.

"God, Kate," he whispers, his fingers stretching toward her. "I-"

He shuts his mouth, and she can see the tears welling in his eyes. Lifting her son, she sets him on the bed next to his father, keeps a hand on the small back, leans forward until she can hook an arm around Castle's neck, until she can hold him close, until she can feel him - real and breathing, and _conscious_ against her, the muscles of his throat working to hold back his grief.

"It's okay," she murmurs, her fingers curling to delve into the hair at the back of his head, a little longer now than he usually keeps it. "It's okay. We're here. We made it. It's okay."

Nothing's certain, she knows. He's awake now, but nothing's certain.

She just knows that she can't let him flounder.

His fingers twitch at her waist, clenching loosely in her shirt, hanging on to her. But there's a weakness in his grip that scares her, that twists her stomach.

She's never known him to be anything but strong.

Keeping her temple pressed to his, she turns her head just enough to catch her stepdaughter's eyes, to see the way the young woman watches them. Her expression is unreadable though. Or maybe not unreadable. Maybe just torn.

Kate understands that.

She knows, she knows that there's a terrible worry mixed with unspeakable joy. Gratitude that he's awake, yes, so much of that. But also a deep fear that he might never fully recover, or worse - that he might leave them again.

She'd imagined this day, of course she had. Even after the first month, when it seemed less and less likely that he'd ever wake up, she'd still imagined what it would be like to talk to him again. She'd imagined his reaction to meeting their son.

She hadn't imagined this.

He's going through something like shock, she thinks. As much of a shock as it had been to her to get the phone call from Dr. Bodie tonight, it must be even worse for Castle, waking up to find out he's been unconscious for more than a year.

Alexis leans over then, sets a hand on Nathaniel's back.

"Dad?"

Castle takes a deep breath against her, and she cradles the back of his head in her palm, lifts up to press a quick kiss to his lips.

Revels in the fact that even though nothing is the way she thought it would be - her husband is kissing her back.

She brushes her nose against his and then straightens in the chair. Her fingertips tracing the shell of his ear, she watches as Alexis scoots onto the bed on his other side, her small hand coasting over his forearm until her she can rub her thumb across his knuckles, the contrast in their skin tones not nearly what it should be.

"You haven't missed everything," Alexis says softly. "He hasn't said his first word yet. He hasn't started walking."

Kate sees the flash of something like argument in his eyes, and she squeezes his ear, just hard enough to catch his attention. He clamps his lips closed, flips his hand to envelop his daughter's fingers in his grasp.

He opens his mouth again, his eyes darting between them and then down to the little boy who sleeps undisturbed against his father's side.

Kate answers his unspoken question before he has a chance to ask.

"Nathaniel," she says quietly. "His name is Nathaniel Atticus Castle. He'll be seven months old in three days."


	7. Chapter 7

She watches as he lifts one hand, hesitates, and finally rests it against Nathaniel's back. A sudden pang of unfulfilled longing twists in her stomach.

She remembers watching him the first time he held Ryan and Jenny's newborn baby girl, remembers the way his huge hands dwarfed the tiny form. She remembers the fluttering of her heart in that moment, the way she wanted to see him with their own child, wanted to see his face painted with not just an honorary uncle's affection but with the pure adoration she knew would spark in his eyes when he cradled their son or daughter.

She wanted that shared wonder at a new life, that sense of complete helplessness and yet knowing that this was something they'd created together - something they'd nurture and love together.

God, he missed all of that. And she hasn't realized until this moment how much she had wanted that for him, for herself.

His hand is still huge against Nathaniel's back, his fingers curling around the boy's side and stroking up and down over the bright green onesie.

But it's not the same.

"Can I-" he starts, but breaks off.

She lifts her eyes to his, finds him looking at the baby with such naked longing in his gaze.

Sliding both hands under their son's stomach, she lifts his limp form, sets him on his father's chest. Castle's eyes track with her every movement.

Alexis stands then, leaning over for a moment, and then the bed moves, tilting the writer's upper body until he's half-sitting, one broad hand under Nathaniel's rump, the other cupping the soft dark head against his chest. He shoots his daughter a grateful smile, and she grins back, scooting onto the mattress next to him, their shoulders pressed tightly together.

Something inside the detective releases at that moment, a fist unclenching, a knot untangling - she's not sure how to describe it, just knows with a flash of realization that no matter what happens, they'll be okay.

Tipping her head up, she stares for a second at the artificial lights above, wills back the rising moisture. When she drops her gaze back to her family, she finds father and daughter watching her with twin looks, both understanding and expectant. She gives them a soft smile, and Castle moves his hand from the back of his son's head, pats the narrow space next to him.

"It's a tight fit," he says. "But-"

She doesn't let him finish, just slides into the spot he's indicated, twists her body until one shoulder is sandwiched between the bed and his body, her chin resting at the juncture of his shoulder and arm, her fingers curling around his bicep.

A throat clears, and she looks up, realizing that Dr. Bodie has been standing here all this time. She half-shrugs sheepishly, but all he says is to be careful of the monitors and to press the call button if they need anything.

Nodding, she watches as he steps out of the room, shuts the door quietly behind him.

"Tell me about him?" Castle murmurs when it's just their little family, and she glances down to find Nate's body aligned with her husband's forearm, his head cradled in a large palm, legs splayed on either side of the writer's elbow.

She laughs, pressing her lips lightly to his shoulder. "Well, he was born on his actual due date."

"February seventh, really?" Castle asks, and she nods against him.

"Mm, they didn't induce or anything. He was just ready."

The writer lifts his hand, his thumb smoothing over the baby's cheek, wiping away a small spot of drool. "Already has better timing than his father."

His voice is light, but she can still hear the underlying sorrow, his guilt over missing the past year. And she knows that nothing she can say now will assuage that guilt.

"Seven pounds, thirteen ounces," she barrels on. "Twenty-two inches long. Gonna be tall like his dad."

Castle huffs out a laugh. "You're no shrimp yourself, Kate."

She smiles against his shoulder, tilts her head to brush her nose against his neck, a rush of gratitude rising in her chest when he turns his head to nuzzle against her. She remembers those early days, once Alexis was completely okay with their relationship; she remembers the look on the girl's face when she caught them being affectionate with each other - that mixture of happiness and disgust.

Catching the young woman's eyes on them this time, she realizes it's just one more thing that's changed.

There's only happiness now.


	8. Chapter 8

She still misses him.

She should have expected this, but she didn't.

She didn't expect those first few minutes, those first few hours of relief, of joy, of _everything's_ _going_ _to_ _be_ _okay_ to turn into this.

He only holds Nathaniel that first time for a few minutes before he starts sweating, the exertion on his long neglected muscles too much. That look, the look he gives her then when she slides her hands under the boy and lifts him away - she hates that look: frustration, longing, hurt.

Dr. Bodie comes back as Alexis is leaving, explains their next steps.

He'll be assessed, and assuming he's well enough, they'll move him from the long-term care facility to a rehab center as soon as possible. He'll be there for at least a month.

Castle balks, of course. Dr. Bodie tells him to get out of bed. He can't.

Kate almost cries.

Instead, she sits next to him on the bed, her fingers stroking the back of his head as the doctor explains their options. Castle falls asleep before they make any decisions.

She's terrified he won't wake up again.

He does.

Gates agrees to let her take two weeks off work to stay with him.

She ends up taking three days, long enough to watch her husband freak out over the feeding tube and the hole just below his ribcage, long enough to stay with him while the doctors put him through a series of trials designed to test his physical abilities, his cognition, his motivation.

Long enough to hover breathlessly as an orderly helps him into a wheelchair.

Helps him might not be the right phrase, actually. The man lifts him like a sack of potatoes and sets him in the wheelchair.

She's there long enough to see the man who beat up an assassin, the man who broke down the door of her burning apartment, the man who saved them from drowning in the Hudson - she's there long enough to watch as the strongest man she knows crumples when he tries, and tries again, and then discovers he can't push himself forward even a foot.

She's there, kneeling at his side, brushing the hair off his forehead, squeezing his knee, promising that they'll get there.

And then he sends her away.

She does cry this time, though she waits until she's out in the hall, away from that expression on Castle's face, the one that tells her how much he hates this, hates being so weak, hates her seeing him so weak.

Alexis, finished with finals, is the one who stays with him when they transfer him to the Rusk Institute the next day.

Alexis is the one who comes over for dinner that night.

"He's just frustrated, Kate," the young woman assures her, stirring the macaroni and cheese that bubbles on the stove. "Dad's never been good at being an invalid."

The detective laughs mirthlessly, her hands shaking as she shreds a head of lettuce. "But he used to let me take care of him at least. He practically forced me to bring him soup and ice cream the last time he didn't feel good."

Her stepdaughter shakes her head. "Not-"

"Not what?" the older woman asks.

"He's only been sick a few times since you two got together," Alexis points out. "And just a cold or the flu. He broke his leg once, when I was eleven, and..."

The girl trails off and Kate abandons the salad, comes to stand next to the redhead in front of the stove.

"I went to stay with my mom for a few days," the young woman finishes. "I- I couldn't be around him at first, and he didn't want me around."

There's a darkness, a pain still in the girl's eyes, a pain that hasn't completely faded, even after ten years.

"Oh honey," she murmurs.

Alexis shakes her head. "It's just...Dad's so used to being able to do whatever he wants. He's used to taking care of everyone else."

Kate nods at that, her heart swelling as she thinks of all the ways he's taken care of her, all the cups of coffee, all the meals, all the tiny ways he met her every need in those two months after they found out she was pregnant, before everything changed.

"I know," she says quietly.

"He's just not good at being helpless," the girl finishes.

Shutting her eyes and bracing her elbows against the counter, Kate sighs, drops her head into her hands. "I don't know what to do."


	9. Chapter 9

"I left you alone for months," he hisses.

She shakes her head. "That's different."

"How?"

"I need you."

He scoffs. "I needed you then."

"Castle-"

"And really, Kate? You've been getting along just fine without me."

She rocks back on her heels, eyes shutting of their own accord. She hasn't heard that bite in his voice since her mother's case, hasn't heard that kind of anger directed at her in years. And dammit, that hurts.

The detective takes a deep breath, reminds herself that he's weak, nearly helpless, that Richard Castle is a self-made man who's used to doing what he wants.

So very much like her.

She remembers all too well what those months were like, how much she wanted to hide away, curl up, lick her wounds in private.

And he's right. She asked, and he left her alone.

Even though it hurt him. Even though she knows he hated it.

_But_ _she_ _didn't_ _have_ _a_ _child_ _-_ _two_ _children_ _-_ _who_ _needed_ _her_.

And therein lies the difference. She *will* make him see that.

"Rick," she begs, leaning forward to set a soft hand on his arm, on the once-bulging bicep that doesn't yet serve him the way it should.

He stands slowly, sloughing off her touch, the exertion evident in his face and the jerkiness of his movement.

"Please, Kate," he grinds out, his blue eyes meeting hers for a moment, imploring. "Just...please."

She lets him go, bows her head to block out the sight of his retreating back.

She can't block out the sound of his shuffling gait, can't block out the squeak of the rubber feet of his walker on the hard linoleum floor.

* * *

Her stepdaughter's voice carries into the hall. "You can't do this."

She pauses outside of the room, hand on the silver lever, heart in her throat. Pressing her forehead against the closed door for a moment, she considers leaving, walking away, coming back later.

It already sounds like today will not go well.

But she hears a low voice answer - briefly - and then the clear tone of the young woman again. "Dad, you can't keep doing this."

"Alexis," her husband says, a little louder. "I-"

The young woman cuts him off. "You don't know what it was like, Dad. You have no idea what it was like."

"You're doing fine, all of you," Castle says, his deep voice carrying through the thin walls. "You need to focus on school, and Kate has work and the baby, and..."

"His name is Nathaniel."

"I know," the writer says, his voice calm. But it's the calm of Richard Castle wound too tightly, the sound of him trying not to say something he'll regret.

"Really?" Alexis says, and the detective hears a venom in the young voice that she hasn't heard since a near catastrophic day outside a bank. "Are you sure? Because you've barely seen him since you woke up."

"Alexis," he says, his voice rising, but she can hear the girl's footsteps heading toward the door. "What do you want me to do?"

Kate steps back, steps out of sight just before the door swings open.

She doesn't have to see her stepdaughter's face to know the girl is crying when she answers. "I just want my dad back."

Stepping into her Alexis' path, she catches the young woman as the door shuts heavily, pulls her into a strong embrace. Muffled sobs rack the girl's thin frame as she slides them into a corner of the hallway.

Kate shushes her softly, smoothing her hand over long red hair.

"It's okay," she murmurs. "It's going to be okay."

"He's-" Alexis hiccups. "He's not the same."

The detective shakes her head. "He's not, but none of us are, sweetheart."

Alexis pulls back, but stays within the circle of Kate's arms. "I just...I just don't get it. He's awake, he remembers us, there's nothing really wrong with him. I thought it would all be fine."

Kate lifts her hand, brushing a stray lock of hair out of the girl's eyes. "It will be."

The dubious look her stepdaughter gives her almost makes her laugh, but the heartbreak behind crystal blue eyes stills the sound in her throat.

"He is getting better," she says quietly. "His doctors and therapists think he's doing really well. Maybe better than they expected, and-"

"Kate, please," Alexis whispers, cutting her off. "Just..."

The detective nods, and pulls the girl into another hug. When Alexis steps away, heads down the hall with a final glance back, Kate takes a deep breath.

He looks up when she opens the door, and that's progress, even if he looks back down immediately. His left hand clenches and unclenches around a bright green stress ball, a nervous, but ultimately helpful habit he's picked up in his few weeks here.

Her eyes drop to his right hand, his fingers curled around a freshly sharpened pencil. There's a pad of paper on the desk in front of him, a few lines scrawled untidily across the white surface. His handwriting may not be as neat as it once was, but she can tell as she steps closer that the words are still there.

That her writer is still there.

"Castle," she says, her voice steely.

His eyes lift to hers as she comes to stand next to him, her fingers sliding across the back of his neck. "Like it or not, I'm not leaving you alone anymore."

"Kate," he gruffs, weariness and hurt and frustration in his eyes. "I need-"

"No," she says, dropping to her knees beside him and setting both hands on his thighs. "Your family needs you. I need you. You don't get to do this anymore."


	10. Chapter 10

"How did you do it?" he wonders aloud, the vibrations of his voice rumbling into her back.

She shrugs. "It wasn't easy, but I had to. I had to do it for Alexis and Nathaniel."

His mouth presses against the nape of her neck, his lips soft and warm and right, and she realizes he needs to know this, needs to know what really got her through.

"You helped," she says quietly, turning in his embrace until she faces him, until she can watch the ever-present city lights glinting off his eyes. "You kept me going, Castle."

He opens his mouth, but she presses a finger to his lips, lifts herself over his broad body to open the drawer of the nightstand, her hand seeking blindly until her fingers close around cool metal.

"Kate?"

His abdomen shifts beneath hers as he speaks, his bare skin brushing hers where her thin shirt has ridden up, causing a delicious curl of heat to spread outward through her body from that small point of contact. She braces herself with a palm against his chest, his hand immediately rising to cover hers.

Even in the dim light she can see the way his pupils dilate. Reaching up, he brushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers tracing lightly over her skin.

She shudders under the gentle touch, everything rising to the surface in that moment - fear and hope and grief and joy and relief and her desperate, desperate need for her husband, for this second chance they've been given.

"Castle," she keens, and he pulls her down, swallows her voice and replaces it with truth beyond words.

* * *

"Is that my phone?"

It takes her a moment to process the question, her body still thrumming with release. Turning on her side to face him, she follows Castle's eyes to the small device that rests on the sheets between them, the sleek black and silver shining darkly in the stillness of the room.

She nods. "I must have dropped it when..."

Raising her eyes to his, she finds his lips curling upward. But it's not the grin she remembers from when they first got together, that look of complete awe that she really did love him, really did want to be with him. It's not the smirk either, not the expression he always wore when she pounced on him after he'd been in meetings all day, the look that said _you_ _might_ _not_ _want_ _to_ _admit_ _it_, _but_ _you_ _missed_ _me_.

It's something else. Something tender, a little wistful. She lifts her hand, lets her fingers trace the parentheses that bracket his smiling mouth, the handsome crinkles that border his soft eyes.

She loves him. Oh, she loves him.

And for the first time, she can almost pretend that the past fifteen months never happened.

He turns into the touch, his lips glancing off her palm.

"Tell me?" he requests, and she nods, pulls her hand from his face to hit the power button on the phone.

He has a new one now, never asked her about the old one. She's glad for that.

Glancing down, she watches the screen light up with the glowing symbol that she knows will stay in place as it powers up.

"After you-" she starts, and suddenly it all comes rushing back.

The sinking in her stomach as she listened to her stepdaughter's voicemail, the rising dread as Esposito drove them toward the hospital, the terror as they waited and waited and waited.

She's told him all of it, knew he needed to know. Once he gave in, once he understood what his absence had done to them, what his distance was doing to them, she'd been there every day, helping him rebuild their relationship as he rebuilt his own strength.

She watched as he got to know his son, as he figured out what things make the boy laugh.

She watched as he used Nathaniel in place of a medicine ball for his exercises, swinging the boy back and forth, lifting him up and down.

She pushed back tears - let her joyful laughter come rippling out instead - the day she came back into the room after a phone call from the captain to find her husband tossing his giggling son into the air, catching the boy, and tossing him again.

Her heart sank to see how much it still wore him out that day, the way he moved a little slower after the game that should have been so easy. But it was progress. And he's only moved forward since. He's home now.

"They gave me all of your belongings," she says softly, lifting her eyes to meet his, solemn and patient. "Your jacket, wallet, keys. Your phone."

He nods.

"So I just brought them home," she continues. "And then one day, I accidentally grabbed your phone instead of mine. I didn't realize it until I turned it on and saw that the background was different."

She gestures toward the phone, toward the lock screen picture - Alexis standing behind Kate with her arms draped around the older woman while her chin rests on her stepmother's shoulder as the detective's hands rest on her belly, just the hint of a swell visible in the picture he'd taken only a few days before the subway.

"I love that picture," he murmurs, his hand dropping between them, index finger smoothing across the glass surface of the phone, across her slightly swollen figure.

Her chest tightens, his action a reminder of all the things he missed, of the way she'd stood in front of the bathroom mirror in the months that followed, studying the way her body was changing, imagining how it would look if Castle had been there, how he would step up behind her - his large hands caressing her, protecting her.

She shuts her eyes at the memory, breathes through it. Opens her eyes again to find him watching her, and she knows that somehow he's reading her mind.

"Kate, I'm so sorry," he whispers, but she shakes her head, leaning forward to press her lips to his in absolution.

"That's when I found your message," she says quietly, thumbing across the lock screen and typing in his password. She glances up at him, but he doesn't even look surprised that she knows it, that she knows him.

She opens the app, her finger hovering over the single recording.

"This is what kept me going," she says, lifting her eyes to his. "You kept me going."

She taps the screen, watches his eyes slide shut as his own voice rings out from the speaker. "Hey, sweetheart."

They listen together in silence, but not stillness.

Turning her body, she slides back into his embrace, letting his large frame engulf her. She tilts her head to press a kiss to his cheek at his teasing, squeezes his hand at the grief in his voice, runs her fingers over his skin at the hitch in his breathing - loves him as he listens with her.

She knows every word, every sigh, every moment of it by heart.

But this time, when his recorded voice whispers 'Always,' his breath really does wash over her ear, his chest rising warm against her back, his fingers tight against her stomach.

A click. Silence.

Castle twitches in his sleep, his knee jerking up to hit the back of her thigh. He hasn't regained his full strength yet, gets tired more easily, can't stay awake as long as he once did.

But he's here, wrapped around her in their bed.

Reaching over, she taps the home button of the phone, bringing it to life once more, the interface of the voice recorder app shining in the darkness, the message that has been her lifeline highlighted in bright blue. She stares at it for a moment.

And then hits 'Delete.'

* * *

_the end_


End file.
